Mick Sinatra: For Once In My Life (18 page)

Mick knew it
too.
 
His men didn’t realize it, but Mick
was less interested in the fact that it had happened, and more interested in
what he had to do to ensure it never happened again.
 
That required showing more than telling.
 
Mick showed.

As soon as
he was within close range of the men, he pulled out his gun and fired.
 
Even his own men were caught off guard as he
fired one bullet between the eyes of the first man, then the second man, and,
in rapid succession, the third one.
 
The last
man standing, Pomp Valance, pissed in his pants.

“Tell the
truth and you stand a chance,” Mick said to Pomp as he continued to
approach.
 
“Lie to me and you don’t.”

The man,
Pomp Valance, could barely breathe.
 
But
he didn’t hesitate.
 
He knew Mick.
 
He knew Mick the Tick.

“Provensano’s
men approached us.”

Mick’s men
looked at each other.
 
“Provensano?”
Silvio asked, surprised.

“What did
they want?” Mick asked Pomp.

Pomp was
terrified, but he knew he had to tell it.
 
“Intel.
 
Everything we could
find.”

“About
what?”

“The
Hub.
 
They knew about the Hub.
 
But they wanted the details.
 
The day to day.”

“Papers, in
other words?” Mick asked. “A paper trail.”

Pomp nodded
his head.
 
“But I didn’t give them shit,
boss. You have to believe me. I told them to kiss my ass.”

Mick shot
Pomp in the arm.
 
Pomp grabbed it and
screamed in pain.

“Tell me the
truth and you stand a chance,” Mick said again.
 
“Lie to me and you don’t.”

“Okay,” Pomp
said.
 
“Okay!”
 
He continued to hold his arm.
 
“I gave them what I had.”

“Which was?”
Leo asked.

“I didn’t
have nothing major to give them, boss. I didn’t know anything about the inner
workings---”

“What did
you give them?” Mick asked.

Pomp
hesitated.
 
But not for long.
 
“The shipment.”

“Which
shipment?
 
The one next week?”

He shook his
head.
 
“The big one.
 
The guns.
 
The one arriving in three months.
 
That’s what they want.
 
They want
the guns.”

But Leo was
frowning.
 
“How the fuck would he know
about that?” he asked.

“We had to
tell him.
 
You understand, boss.”
 
Pomp appealed to Mick.
 
“We had no choice.
 
They were threatening our families and
shit.
 
They were going to kill our little
children, our babies, if we didn’t give them what they wanted!”

“Bullshit!”
Leo shot back.
 
“You were more afraid of
what fucking Provensano would do to your little children than what Mick Sinatra
would do to them?
 
Bullshit!”

Mick
continued to stare at Pomp.
 
“How much?”
he asked him.

“Just that
one shipment.
 
That’s all we told them.”

“How much
did they pay you?” Mick asked.

Pomp
swallowed hard.

“HOW MUCH?”
Mick yelled so loud that Pomp jumped.

“A hundred
thousand,” Pomp said quickly.
 
“And two
hundred thousand every time we brought him juice.
 
He said he was going to make us rich.”

All of
Mick’s men were stunned.
 
That kind of
money didn’t pass around unless it had value beyond the value.
 
Something else was at work here.

“Who were
the men that approached you?” Mick asked Pomp.

“It was a
blind run.
 
We never saw nobody.
 
They just told us who they were working for
and they gave us the hundred grand up front.”
 
Now it was begging time.
 
“But I
can be your inside man, boss.
 
I can give
them wrong information and make sure---”

Mick shot
Pomp straight through the head.
 
Another
fucker who wanted to be inside once he got caught outside.
 
Mick was tired of this shit.
 
And he watched Pomp fall the same way his
snitching partners fell.
 
Like the rats
they were, as far as Mick was concerned.

His men
looked at him.
 
“What do we do now,
boss?” Silvio asked.
 
“Maybe we could
have worked him as an inside man.”

Mick looked
at Silvio with cold eyes.
 
“You think
Provensano’s stupid enough to give that prick his inside information?”

Silvio shook
his head.
 
“No.”

“Then stop
making stupid-ass comments.”

Leo shook
his head.
 
“This shit getting serious,”
he said.
 
“We’re gonna have to stop that
shipment.”

“Like hell
we are,” Mick said.
 
“That shipment
remains a go.
 
Provensano’s men will get
there early.
 
Maybe even a day early, a
week early, to set up.
 
But my men will
get there now.
 
Three months early.
 
Already set up.”

“What do you
mean, boss?” Leo asked.
 
“Do you mean
that every one of Provensano’s men will be taken out before the shipment even
arrives?”

“Not taken
out,” Mick said.
 
“Watched.
 
Shadowed.
 
Provensano won’t know he’s been hit until after that shipment has come
and gone.
 
Then we’ll deal with the
men.
 
And then I’ll deal with
Provensano.”

Mick’s men
relaxed.
 
Because once again, Mick was
around the world before they could get around the corner.
 
He had them beat.

Roz walked
out of Mick’s home in a beautifully tailored gray and gold form-fitting dress
with her matching clutch and heels.
 
Deuce was waiting at the limousine and opened the door for her.
 
He smiled when he saw her.
 
He knew she would pull it off.
 
“You look elegant, Miss Graham,” he said as
she approached.

Roz
smiled.
 
“Thank you, Deuce.
 
But you know you can call me Roz.”

“Yes, ma’am,
I can.
 
If I don’t mind Mr. Sinatra
knocking me into next week.
 
But since
calling you Roz is not worth that particular pain to me, I’ll stick with Miss
Graham.”

But Roz was
dumbstruck.
 
“Why would you say
that?
 
Mick wouldn’t,” she stared to say,
but then caught herself.
 
Because she
didn’t really know what Mick would or wouldn’t do.
 
Deuce, who’d been with him for years,
did.
  
And it didn’t look as if Deuce was
kidding.
 
It looked as if he really
believed Mick would knock him into next week if he thought he was being
disrespectful to Roz.
 
It pleased and
unnerved Roz all at once.
 
What manner of
man was she dealing with here?
 
But she
didn’t pursue it.
 
That was why she was
here.
 
To find out for herself.
 
She got into the limo, Deuce got behind the
wheel, and they drove away.

The owner of
Raphael’s was waiting at the curb when Mick’s limousine drove up.
 
Mick did not immediately step out, as he was
on the phone with some of his anxious partners who had been told about the
breach.
 
The driver kept the door closed
during this time, which made the owner peeved, but the driver didn’t see where
that was his fault.
 
Nobody told him to
come out here anyway.
 
But when Mick did
hang up and got out, buttoning his suit coat, the Spanish owner smiled as if
there was no ill will at all, and extended his hand.

“Mr.
Sinatra, welcome back to Raphael’s!”

He said it
the way Ricardo Montalbon would have said it, and Mick smiled.
 
“Thank you,” Mick said, and shook the owner’s
hand.
 
“How are you this evening?”

“I am
fantastico, sir!
 
And you?”

“I’m very
well.”

“Good to
hear it, sir.
 
Good to hear it.
 
But come.
 
Come with me.
 
Your table awaits
you.”

Mick was
escorted in, with all eyes on him since the owner almost never met someone’s
car, and was seated at a table by the window.
 
Mick ordered the best wine for himself and Rosalind and then phoned
Deuce to find out if they were en route.
 
Once Deuce assured him that he would have his lady there in a matter of
minutes, Mick leaned back and relaxed.
 
And tried not to think about the level of betrayals his organization
were enduring.
 
Five in one month.
 
That was unheard of.
 
The Dons wanted a meeting.
 
They were concerned too.
 
Mick thought that situation alone would
dominate his every thought.
 
And it
mostly did.
 
But Rosalind did too.

A part of
him still recoiled at the thought of even attempting to get close to someone
the way it appeared he was getting close to Rosalind.
 
The idea that he found himself smiling every
time he thought about her.
  
The idea
that he actually initiated a phone call with her every night since he last saw
her.
 
Every single night.
 
He refused to let the conversations linger,
however.
 
He simply asked if she was
okay, she said that she was, and then he told her he had to go.
 
And he did.
 
He was a busy man.
 
But when he
thought about it, when he realized he never bothered to phone and check on any
other woman before, not ever, it was a remarkable turn.

More
remarkable was the fact that she was against his usual type.
 
He dated women of all races before.
 
Beauty came in every color under the sun to
Mick and he sampled every one.
 
But she
was no supermodel.
 
She was no elite
businesswoman.
 
She was no
socialite.
 
She was no self-centered
pampered princess like his other women were, women who seduced him as eagerly
as he seduced them.
 
His interest in all
the others began and ended with their looks, with their bodies, with what he
could do to them in bed.

But Mick’s
interest in Rosalind was on a different level.
 
As the waiter arrived with the drinks, and left, Mick thought about that
level difference.
 
Unlike his other
ladies, Rosalind’s beauty wasn’t in her makeup or in how many plastic surgeries
she could afford or in other artificial ways to keep the lips full and the
cheeks high and the eyes wide.
 
Rosalind’s beauty wasn’t bold like that.
 
It was natural.
 
It was
subtle.
 
It was so subtle that many men
probably missed it.

But not
Mick.
 
He saw it as clearly as he saw the
world.
 
Rosalind’s beauty went deep to
him.
 
It was in her smile, and the way
she carried herself, and the way she refused to lose her integrity just to get
what she wanted.
 
She could have been in
Barry’s play.
 
If Mick would have
insisted, he knew Barry would have granted him that request.
 
But she refused to rig the game.
 
She refused to skip the line just because
somebody offered her the chance.
 
She
also turned his ass down, the first woman to ever do so.
 
Mick smiled just thinking about that turn
down, and how floored he was after she did it.
 
He saw her differently.
 
It was as
if every other woman he ever showed interest in was on one side, and Rosalind
stood apart on the other side.
 

He never
kept a woman around for any appreciable time, so there was never women waiting
in the wings for his love.
 
But what was
truly odd was the change in approach.
 
Because oddly enough, ever since he invited Rosalind to come to
Philadelphia, he hadn’t slept with anyone, he hadn’t asked to sleep with
anyone, he hadn’t even answered the call from women interested in sleeping with
him.
 
Not that he didn’t have urges and
needed a night with a lady.
 
He needed
several nights.
 
But he knew he had to
sacrifice if he was going to give this brand new, fresh out of the box
relationship a chance.

He even got
HIV-tested, even though, after twenty years of wearing condoms, he knew he was
clean.
 
But go figure.
 
For Rosalind’s peace of mind, he got tested.
 
And then he text her a copy of the negative
results before she came.
 
But what was
wonderful to him was that she text him her results too.
 
He smiled all day, not because she was
negative, but because it was a done deal.
 
For the first time in two decades, he was not going to wear a
condom.
 
Just before he had his last
child, he was young and dumb and thought he was invincible.
 
He almost never wore a condom and ended up
fathering children left and right.
 
He
had three grown sons and one grown daughter, and Shane, who was not his
biological child, but was supported by him.
 
But regardless, he was not a good father to any of them.

Now he was
talking about giving love a chance.
 
A
man like him who didn’t deserve shit.
 
But he wanted Rosalind.
 
It pained
him just thinking about it, because he knew how selfish he was being.
 
But he wanted her.

He wanted
her so badly, and in such a great way, that he had been excited all day about
her arrival.
 
He hadn’t been excited
about anything in years, but he was excited about her arrival.
 
He sent his plane for her, and the plan was
for him to meet her at the airstrip when the plane arrived.
 
But the breach took precedent and he had to
leave it to Deuce, his best and most trusted driver, to get her safely to his
home.
 
Then the plan changed again when
he ended up on the outskirts of town handling the breach.
 
He couldn’t do dirt like that and then go
straight to her.
 
He needed time alone.
 
To decompress.
 
To feel human again.
 
So the plan changed again.
 
But no more changes, he thought.
 
He hadn’t seen Rosalind in weeks.
 
He missed her.
 
It was her time now.

And when she
walked into the restaurant, he realized why he felt warmth just thinking about
her.
 
She looked stunning to him.
 
The way she wore that dress.
 
The way her hair, worn straight with a fluff
of curls at the tip, bounced as she walked.
 
The confidence she exuded would put supermodels to shame.
 
But it was more than that.
 
He missed her.
 
He missed the way she made him laugh.
 
He missed the way she knew how to put matters
into perspective.
 
And yes, he had to
admit, he missed the way she made him feel when he fucked her.

He stood up
as she smiled and made her way to his table.
 
And the way, once she saw him she hurried to him, as if she was as
excited to see him as he was to see her.
 
It warmed his heart all over again.
 
And when they met, they hugged and held each other for a long time.
 
The Maître d, who escorted her to the table,
just stood there.
 
But Mick didn’t
care.
 
He was not a man given to public
displays of affection ever, but this was Rosalind.
 
Everything was different when it came to her.

They finally
stopped embracing, did a simple kiss on the lips, and sat down.
 
And Mick was right.
 
Rosalind was excited too.

“May I get
you anything, ma’am?” the maître d asked.

“Yes,” Roz
said, handing him the glass of wine that sat in front of her.
 
“A fresh drink.”

The maître d
seemed offended.
 
“But ma’am, the drink
in question was just brought to your table.
 
It is fresh.”

Mick looked
at him with those cold eyes Roz noticed he could turn on in a flash.
 
“What did the lady tell you to do?” he asked.

The maître d
nearly lost his lunch.
 
He saw the boss
escort this man into the restaurant.
 
“She told me to get her a fresh drink.”

“Get her a
fresh drink,” Mick ordered.

The maître d
bowed, and left.

Roz didn’t
think it was all that serious for Mick to intervene that way, but she was
fairly certain that was just his way of doing business.
 
Iron fist all the way.
 
“Not that I think anything was wrong with
that drink,” she pointed out.
 
“Or that
you did anything with it.
 
Heavens
no.
 
But some creep put a roofie in my
drink once.
 
He didn’t get away with
it.
 
One of my girlfriends saw him and
called him out on it.
 
But I’ve been
cautious ever since.”

Mick lifted
his drink to her.
 
“And so you should,”
he said, pleased that she was nobody’s fool.
 
“I would be disappointed if you weren’t.”

He sipped
from his glass.
 
She smiled.
 
“So,” she said, unable to suppress her
excitement.
 
“We meet again, Mr.
Sinatra!”

He couldn’t
suppress his either.
 
“Yes, we do, Miss
Graham!”

“When I told
my dad about you, and that I was coming to Philadelphia to spend some time with
you and get to know you better, he---”

“He had many
questions I’m sure.”

“Always.”

“Such as?”
Mick asked.
 
“No, let me guess.
 
He wanted to know why I didn’t take my ass to
New York.
 
Why did you have to come see
me?
 
He said that, didn’t he?”

Roz
laughed.
 
“He did.
 
Yes, he did.”

“I’m
psychic,” Mick said.
 
“For my services I
should charge.”

“He also
asked if you were some kin to, and I quote, ‘the great Frank Sinatra.’”

Mick
nodded.
 
He got that all the time too.

“I asked him
who in the world was Frank Sinatra,” Roz said.
 
“Well after he got up from the floor, he’s a musician, you see, he took
me to school on who exactly Frank Sinatra was.
 
But of course I already knew.
 
I
love teasing my pops that way.
 
When I
told him I was teasing, he laughed.
 
He
was more relieved than angry.”

Mick
smiled.
 
“He sounds like a good guy.”

Roz
nodded.
 
“He is.
 
He’s my best friend.
 
He still has his struggles with his career,
and I have struggles with mine.
 
We can
relate to each other.
 
We look out for
each other.”

Mick loved
to hear that.
 
“Keep it that way,” he
said.
 
“And if your father ever wishes to
meet the man you came to spend time with, just say the word and I will make
myself available.”

Roz was
pleased to hear that.
 
“Thank you, Mick,”
she said, heartfelt.
 
He really was a
good guy, she felt.
 
Every time she was
around him she felt nothing but positive energy.
 
But why would a sweet guy like Deuce McCurry
be so afraid of him?
 
Which reminded her
of something she read about Mick that bothered her royally.
 
But in time, she thought, they would discuss
it.